Of blue shells and scarab-bees
by Yumi Take
Summary: Survival isn't enough, not when the Dai Li holds the city and Fire Nation troops walk freely in the streets, not when the forest still calls to Smellerbee, not when the Spirits send her such a sign. The Blue Spirit stares at her, and Smellerbee thinks she can grow into that mask. It's the only hope she has, anyway.


A. N. : This text is set in the canon of "A viper-lizard's tales", my long-running fanfic, which is why some of the events mentioned might be somewhat... different. But since it's something of a spinoff, I don't think reading the main fic is absolutely necessary. But anyway, writing Smellerbee was really fun ! I want to do it again someday !

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It's an act of resistance.

But really, at first, it's an act of survival. Searching through Mushi's house for any scrap of food and useful material they didn't take the first time around. Walking through each room, realizing the Dai Li was there, looking for something – but what ? Jet and Li left with the Avatar's band, taking Lin with them, and Mushi disappeared in the invasion. Maybe Mushi was important. Maybe the Dai Li was looking for him, or for clues on his whereabouts.

Smellerbee really hopes they didn't find anything.

She and Longshot are looking in every nook and cranny of the house, picking up cups and tea for the others – comfort is essential in such times, that is something they didn't forget in those few weeks of peace, and even if _before_, comfort mostly came from Jet's stories and from hot meals, tea is better than nothing – picking up a sack of rice left inside a cupboard – not what the Dai Li was after, they came here before rationing food then – picking up broken chairs and broken jars for heating, picking up cloth, feeling the floorboards for empty space and –

That's when she finds it. Hidden between rooms, next to an emptied hole. There was a plank between the two spaces, and Smellerbee only thought to move it because she accidentally hit a shard of pottery against it and it made a hollow sound.

The Blue Spirit stares at her with empty eyes and Smellerbee sees her hands shake more than she feels them.

It's like a sign.

She calls out to Longshot and in his eyes she sees the vindication she feels. Now is the time to fight.

When they go back to the Lower Ring, bags heavy with contraband, they know survival is over. It is not enough to just survive, they were both aware of this before – the call of the forest was too strong, and protecting the weak without fighting just isn't something they know – but at the same time, leading a resistance on their own, without Jet to tell them what to do… they weren't ready.

They are now. They _have_ to be. The Spirits have brought along instructions, or at the very least an opportunity – and experience taught Smellerbee to never pass up any chance, especially ones that feel like a gift from the world itself. If you're hungry and you find a scarab-bee nest where there was nothing the day before, you don't ask about it, you just thank the forest and eat, and bring the rest back home.

Now that she thinks about it, it's the first time since they blew up the dam that Smellerbee finds this kind of sign. It's a second chance then. A way to prove herself.

They leave the goods for Jin to manage. It's not going to be enough, she says – word of mouth made it so that more and more people are turning to them for help, temporary or otherwise, and between the children to feed, the sick to heal, and the families to keep safe, resources are starting to get sparse. They need more.

Smellerbee shares a look with Longshot. The only way to answer Jin's request would be to stop scavenging, and instead find a way into the reserves for the Fire Nation army. That, or the city stock. Either way, that means guards, probably a few Dai Li agents, and definitely some ashmakers.

This isn't something they can improvise.

There is a shiver going up Smellerbee's back, a slight tremor in her hands, and she has to bite her lip to stop her face from moving. Jin is apologizing, she knows it's a lot to ask but she did the math and – Smellerbee stops her. The reason Jin is in charge of the inventory in the first place is that she is good at counting and direct enough that when she says something, people listen, even the adults. Smellerbee trusts Jin and her judgement.

And moreover, Smellerbee doesn't say, it wasn't apprehension that made her shake.

It probably says something terrible about her that the thought of putting herself in danger's way is enough to make her laugh with excitement. It's not that the peaceful days of having a job and hanging out with Li were _unbearable_ – though Smellerbee could do with never having to take off her face paint again – but fighting and putting her life at risk and knowing that if she lives it means she was _better_…

It makes her feel alive. Makes her feel _real_.

But she can't be reckless, not now, not with people looking up to her the way she used to look up at Jet – it's almost too much, that weight on her shoulders. Having Longshot at her side to bear the lives and expectations of the people in their care is something she will never be thankful enough for.

They've retreated in their room to plan, the two of them – _their_ room, the only space in the whole city where it's just the two of them, and Jet's swords hanging on the wall, and where they can almost hear the wind in the leaves if they pretend hard enough. Planning without Jet feels weird, foreign even, but it has to be done.

Longshot points between the two of them with a grimace, one eyebrow raised. They're the only real fighters here, and that means for now they can't take big risks, he's right about that. A small target then. Not many guards, avoid a fight at all costs and instead try to sneak in. She can hear Jet's voice calling for a diversion, but they don't have the resources right now. They'll have to train some of the kids later. Maybe a few adults too, even if Smellerbee doesn't know that she can trust them.

Jet would manipulate them into doing what he wants, would sacrifice them to protect more kids. Smellerbee doesn't know that she can do that either. The adults are counting on her – on them – as much as the kids are. But they aren't fighters and that will have to change. If they don't listen, she can always threaten to keep food away from them and let them rely on rations only. If Longshot stares at them hard enough, they might even believe her.

Jin would hate it, though.

But that will be later. For now, planning is the only thing that matters. Smellerbee asked Jin for a map of Ba Sing Se a while ago, to mark houses they visited – now it's going to serve another purpose. Longshot takes a piece of charcoal and circles three buildings in the Lower Ring. It's not like they hadn't considered that kind of operation before, not like they hadn't already noticed some less heavily guarded spots. They'll have to do better after that. Get intel. That, Smellerbee knows well – sneaking around, teaching the kids to be transparent and keep their ears open.

Adults can get in more places, or in different ones. Maybe she can use them like that, maybe that would be easier. Teaching how to listen asks for less contact than teaching how to fight. Definitely easier.

They choose part of the city reserves as their target. It's less guarded than the stock that's going to be sent to troops, and far enough from this building that they can avoid leading the Dai Li there, even if they get spotted. Best case, they shake off the agents. Worst case, well…

Let's just not get noticed.

Longshot knows just as well as her that they can't afford risking both their lives, not when it's only the two of them keeping the others fed and safe, meaning he will stay back and cover for Smellerbee while she takes the goods. Danger will sit on her shoulders like one of those small pet monkey-dogs, familiar and warm, so unlike everyone's expectations.

But Longshot stares at her, frowning, a reminder that things aren't like before, that she can't afford to lose herself in the fight anymore – she hunches her shoulders and shrinks a little. He knows her too well. She knows he never liked that part of her – never understood the thrill of fighting – but usually he doesn't call attention to it.

Things are different now. There is no one other than Longshot at Smellerbee's back. No Jet to ensure the Freedom Fighters will live on even if she doesn't.

She exits the room with a blue mask hidden in her clothes next to a cloth bag, sword and dagger sheathed in their rightful place. Longshot follows, alone. Right now, knowing Jet's hooks are there, ready to protect the both of them, it would feel incredibly reassuring – but Jet isn't here, and the hooks are too big for Smellerbee to use comfortably. And it wouldn't be right. She doesn't deserve them, not yet. She can't hold that weight just yet.

But the mask, that she can hold. It's slightly too large for her face, a little awkward, but she only needs to grow into it. It's weird to think Li wore it before, that he did all kinds of amazing things under that cover. But it's a good kind of weird. Li isn't Jet. She can do this. _Be_ this.

The Blue Spirit steps into the darkness, her shadow following closely. There was a story Jet told once, about a man who didn't have a shadow at his heels and who was miserable because of it. But the Blue Spirit knows better. Her own shadow stands on a roof as she steals, and she has never felt safer before. She almost wishes for a fight, almost wishes for the heat of fire and life. But she is the Blue Spirit, and Spirits don't need to feel real. They just are.

And so the Blue Spirit _is_. _Smellerbee_ is, more alive than ever, more real than ever, and she doesn't need to prove that. She takes what she needs, plus one small jar of honey that she finds hidden with medical supplies. The kids will love it.

On the way back, she shows her findings to Longshot and they share a smile. She can't wait to tell the others about this night, about the Blue Spirit that watches over them, about scarab-bee nests appearing in times of need, but only if you're respectful. Smellerbee knows without a doubt that the stories will make everyone smile.

And that, too, is an act of resistance.


End file.
